The Next Step
by 6xxxangelxxx9
Summary: Lisa has moved to Hawaii, Jackson is there on business. he's not there to hurt her, and they have both been trying to move on. can they?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimor: I own nothing.

Chapter one.

The move had been good for Lisa.

She looked out the small window in her house and sighed contentedly, rubbing her sore arms. Her days had picked up a soothing rhythm. Up at 5am, jog on the beach, pick up a frappucino on the way to work, and after work, if she wasnt too beat, out clubbing with her girlfriend, Taylor. She walked over to the fridge, and pulled out a carton of orange juice. She poured herself a glass, and before drinking it, held the cool glass against her hot forehead. She had to get her air conditioner repaired. It was too damn hot in Hawaii without it.

The higher-ups at the Lux Atlantic had had no problem getting her a managerial job at the Hawaii branch, and she couldnt help but love it there. She loved the way it got hot at four in the morning and didnt cool off until eleven at night. She loved the quick, violent storms, and the way that no matter what time it was, there were always people surfing on the water.

She put her glass in the sink, and grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer, rubbing it against her aching arms. She had gotten into the habit of rock-climbing on the weekends. It caused a roughness in her hands that she was absurdly proud of.

It was 6pm on Sunday, which meant that she had just gotten back from Rocks-a-lot (her indoor rock-climbing gym) and was sweaty and exhausted. She couldnt wait to change into her bathing suit and go for a swim on the beach in front of her house, but first she had to call her dad. She thought privately that if she didnt call every couple days he would hop on a flight and come check up on her. She picked up her cordless and punched in his number without even looking at the keypad.

"Hello?"

"hi dad."

"Lisa!" His voice was warm and excited. "How is my princess?"

"Fine."

"You sound tired."

"I've been rock climbing all day with Mark."

"How is he?"

"He's Mark."

"Is he respecting your boundaries?"

Lisa stopped, pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it incredulously. Only her father.

"Dad, hes fine. He's a good friend, and I dont want anything more than that right now." "Does he?"

Lisa rolled her eyes. Mark was someone she had met at Rocks-a-lot, while they were both there one day, climbing solo. He had started talking to her about techniques, and soon they were swapping stories and favorite climbing spots. Then, he's loaned her his caribeaner...and they'd been friends ever since. They always climbed together, belayed each other, and went out cliff-climbing as necessary partners. He was quick to make her laugh, and also quick to catch her arm if she ever started to fall, (which was rare) but she had tried never to take their relationship any further. To this end, she made a point top never see him anywhere but a climbing location. She thought she had made her limits perfectly clear, and he had never tested them.

"I dont think so, dad. I have to go."

"Have fun, and be safe.

"Be good, dad."

"Love you!"

"Love you too."

Lisa hung the phone up and walked over to her bedroom, thinking about her father's questions. She pictured Mark in her head. He was a few inches taller than her, with tan skin and chocolatey brown eyes that revealed his hawaiian heritage. He had wavey black hair that fell to his eyes, and a body that was hard and muscular from climbing and surfing his whole life. Sure, he was attractive. Sure, Taylor had been telling her to go for it ever since she'd gotten a look at him the one time she'd met Lisa at a climb site. But whenever she imagined asking him to meet her for coffee, she would suddenly feel cold in her stomach and sweaty and unsure of where her feet were. Then she would remind herself: he was her friend; that was that.

She quickly stripped, dropping her sweaty, dusty clothes into the hamper, pulling her still-wet bathing suit from her bed. She was proud of the bathing suit. Taylor had helped her pick it out. It was a bikini, with a halter top and tight, form-fitting bottom. It was something that she never would have allowed herself to ever try on in the past, let alone buy. It was pale green, bringing out her eyes and her well-earned tan, with a gold buckle between the breasts and at each side of the bottom. She knew she looked amazing in it, and it never failed to bring her confidence up. She pulled it on, grimacing at its clamminess. She looked into the mirror, and felt good. But she didn't wear it for the men that stared, or the women that smiled appreciatively. She wore it for herself.

And in the back of her mind, she knew she wore it for him.

She closed her eyes, and for a split second, saw the ice-blue ones that still haunted her dreams every single night.

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Jackson was enjoying hawaii. He was there for two reasons: he was on a fact-finding mission regarding his newest assignment, a foreign politician who was embezzling money from some unseemly sources, and he was also on vacation. He had a deep love of the ocean; it could be as angry and ruthless as he was. It also hid its true nature with a beautiful deep blue facade, similar to his eyes. He felt a kindred spirit in it, when he was standing on the beach as the sun went down, hands in his pockets. He felt that if he ever were to settle down, it would have to be near the ocean

Not like that was coming any time soon though.

He was excited about his newest assignment. It was high-profile, meaning that his employers were starting to trust him again. They had been very forgiving about his massive fuck-up, but understandably nervous about entrusting him with delicate matters. But he knew that, given enough time, they would reward him. Because everyone knew that he was the best.

Therefore, his rates were the highest, which was why he could afford the deliciously expensive bungalow that he was staying in. It was right on the beach, in a good part of town, with a beautiful view of islands in the distance. He knew it was all temporary, but he lived in the now. He did not dwell on the future. Or the past.

Though he sometimes needed to remind himself of that.

At times, when he was out walking, he'd see a familiar eye shape, or the turn of a shoulder, or maybe just a shift in position that made him clench his jaw uncontrollably. He would conciously have to relax himself, although he wasn't sure what the emotion was that he was feeling. Probably rage. With him, everything was usually either cool detachment or rage. A few times, he had followed a girl with auburn hair for forty-five minutes while she did her shopping, only to have her turn to face him at last and her lips would be too small or her eyes would be blue, or some other feature would be wrong, but whatever it was, it wasnt her. Then he would shake himself, and possibly get drunk.

He knew she wasnt here. She would still be in miami, with her stupid life, and her stupid job, and her stupid friends, and the stupid way her eyes lit up when she smiled...

Jackson sat at his desk, trying not to think thoughts. Thoughts were bad. Actions were good. Actions that made him money that he could send to his private account in the Caymen Islands. He thought about the things he could buy with all his money. He smiled. He would go out tonight. Screw the fact that it was a Sunday. He wanted some booze, some company, and some good music. He would go to The Matchstick tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

disclaimor: i own nothing.

author's note: i guess you've already noticed, but this symbol (/-/-/-/-/-) means that we're switching between perspectives. also, thanks for the sweet reviews. i really appreciate them. this story can go pretty much anywhere from here, so if you'd like it to go in any particular direction, feel free to let me know.

Lisa smiled apologetically, holding up her half-drunk seabreeze.

"Sorry, I already have my drink. It's sweet of you to offer, though." she scanned the room hurriedly, searching for Taylor. She self-consciously tugged her strapless shirt up a millimeter and a half, once again cursing inwardly that she had let herself be talked into wearing it. Somehow, Taylor had the gift of bringing out the fun in other people, and she seemed to have made it her life's work to turn Lisa into the party animal that she claimed was hidden away.

The disappointed man eyed her gloomily, swirling the two ice cubes around in his glass of bourbon.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he mourned, gazing at her with almost-compelling puppy-dog eyes that some men seemed to master so well. "It's just, well, my wife just left me, and I've been feeling so lonely, and I thought maybe you were lonely too, and maybe we could help each other to not be lonely." He let out a practiced sigh, and simultaneously looked down into his drink, moving as though choreographed.

Lisa looked at him, horrified, wondering if he was planning to cry. How far did men go these days to get the job done? Luckily, at that moment, she felt a tap on her shoulder and smelled the sweet strawberry perfume that could mean only one thing.

"Here, sweetie, I got your drink." Taylor handed her the second seabreeze, and looked at her seriously, though her eyes were laughing. "Want to go find the guys?"

Lisa felt a split-second of confusion and then caught on. "Yes, let's."

The man glanced at both of them suspiciously, and then shrugged, going back to his drink. "Not my type anyway," he muttered to himself."

"Nice," commented Taylor.

Turning away, Lisa and Taylor made their way through the crowd, giggling.

"So, what line did he use?" asked Taylor.

"Oh, he told me his wife just left him."

"Hm. My favorite is the one where they tell you that their pet just died. It's a classic."

Lisa rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her drink. "Let's sit here," she said, motioning to a two-person table.

Taylor nodded, and set her sparkly blue purse down.

"By the way," she said, "you look amazing tonight. Seriously, thank God I convinced you to wear that top! Everyone is drooling over you. Including me."

Lisa laughed, throwing her arms around her friend. "Stop trying to sweep me off my feet, you heartbreaker."

Taylor gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Come on Sassy, finish up that drink so we can go dance."

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Jackson sat at the bar, nursing a scotch. His eyes, never still, watched all the points in the room of high concentration, lingering helplessly on dancing women, as any man's would. He knew he couldn't, shouldn't stay long, he had too much work to do, but damn it, he deserved a night off. He took a large swallow of his drink, relishing the almost painful way it hit the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

Suddenly, he noticed the focus in the room shifting. There were two girls, near the center, dancing together, and all of the males in the room were looking at them. It wasn't something that anyone would notice, just a shift in the consciousness of everyone there, but it was the same way as when a beautiful girl walked down the street, and everyone felt her presence. You couldn't help but turn to see.

These two girls dancing just about owned the room. their bodies moved together in time to the music, hips swaying, hourglass figures bending. Hair tossing from side to side. One was facing towards him, and the other facing away. His eyes were drawn to the second. Her hips switched in a figure eight motion, and her finger tugged on her own dark-brown hair, weaving through it and pulling. The other was a blonde, with big blue eyes watching the crowd. She seemed somewhat protective of the other girl, because whenever someone got too close to her, she would pull the brunette in another direction.

Jackson chuckled. Like any normal man, he would never pass up watching two girls doing anything together.

Blondie leaned close to the still-faceless brunette and yelled something. The brunette nodded, and continued dancing, while the other wound her way sinuously over to the restroom.

Almost immediately, two men approached the brunette on the dance floor. They began to dance with her, one grinding her from the front and one from the back. Jackson smiled appreciatively at the two opportunistic men.

But then she turned around and his world fell away.

It was her.

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Lisa didn't really mind the two men dancing with her. It might have been the booze, or the way that she had gotten much more comfortable with herself recently since she began rock-climbing and swimming, but she really wasn't as scared of men as she used to be. Possibly, she had grown as a person.

The seabreezes hadn't made her drowsy, but pleasantly detached from her surroundings, and made her feel slightly as though she were floating. She closed her eyes and moved her body slowly in rhythm, enjoying herself. She knew that once Taylor returned from the restroom, she would chase these two hooligans off, but until then, she would make the best of her situation. That seemed to be her motto. As far as mottos went, it wasn't as depressing as some, (Life's a bitch and then you die, for example,) and it certainly wasn't uplifting like others (dance like there's nobody watching, blah blah blah)it just seemed right for her. She couldn't make herself believe that life was all puppies and Christmas, because she had seen the world's teeth, but she also knew that there was a lot of beauty. So maybe the best that anyone could do was to be as happy during the good times, and accept the crap that always followed.

"Alright guys, party's over," she heard a sardonic, amused voice say. Lisa opened her eyes and smiled at her friend. Taylor was so protective of her. Lisa appreciated it, and opened her arms for the pretty blonde.

"I was ok," she told her. "It was sort of fun. Very warm."

"I bet," Taylor giggled. Then she became instantly serious, and moved her lips to Lisa's ear. "Don't look now, but the HOTTEST guy is checking you out."

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Jackson couldn't take his eyes off of her. He tried to put a finger on what about her was so compelling to him. It could have been the way her hair caught the light when it swished, or the way she bit her lip every now and again, but he didn't think that was it. Maybe it was because she looked so healthy. When she had been his job, she had been thin and bony, and so tired. Now, he could see, thanks to her strapless, midriff exposing shirt and skin-tight capris, that she had a lovely softness that seemed to be everywhere despite her flawless muscle definition. Her skin looked creamy and golden, and warm like butter. He wanted to touch her, to run his fingers through her silky hair and feel her hot, wet mouth against his neck. He wanted to...

No! He shook himself, refusing to finish the thought. If she saw him, she would kick up a shit, make a scene, and try to have him arrested. She hadn't seen him since he'd lain dying on her father's living room floor. She had no way of knowing that his company had busted him out of the hospital before he'd ever gotten to trial, especially if she'd been living here, in Hawaii. What was she doing here, anyway?

He was still watching her dance. Her friend had returned from the bathroom, and was whispering something to Lisa. With a jolt, he realized that the friend was looking at him with a grin on her face. He quickly turned back to the bar and downed the rest of his scotch, wincing as it tore into his throat like fire. He counted to sixty, then slowly turned back around, cursing himself for his lack of will-power. They weren't paying any attention to him, thank God. He sat there for a moment, watching her creamy shoulders move sinuously, when he had a devilish idea. He could dance with her, without letting her see him. If she saw him, he would be screwed. But if he could touch her from behind, be close to her, smell her, feel her...well, he had always loved a challenge, and this one would be worth it.

He opened his wallet, threw some money down onto the bar, and then made his way slowly onto the floor. approaching her from behind. He knew the friend would see him, but he also knew that he was good at disarming people, and that he would be able to smile away her protectiveness towards her friend by looking harmless.

It worked. And there was Lisa. He slowly moved behind her, sliding his fingers around her hips, gripping them possessively. He pulled her closer, his body echoing her movements, his chest barely kissing her back. He felt her start, stiffen, then relax and move into him. He delicately sniffed at her sweet hair, moving his face down along her neck, not quite touching her but letting her feel his breath.

He heard her gasp, and slightly arch her back, moving so little that no one could see it, but he could feel it. He slowly ran his hands up to her belly, fingers delicate and light. He couldn't believe it when she moved her ass slightly against him, still weaving her hips from side to side. He had no idea she would be so responsive to him. She let out a tiny whimper, sounding almost like a kitten, and he moved his lips to her ear, biting his tongue to keep himself from whispering her name.

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She felt his harsh breaths in her ear, and his grasping fingers at her waist. He was long, lean and hard behind her, moving flawlessly with her, following every movement she made like he was reading her mind. Her skin was humming everywhere he touched her. She couldn't breathe, she was so aroused. She closed her eyes, and leaned back into him, wanting to feel every inch. She ran her fingers up his arms, feeling the sinewy strength in them. She noticed lips moving down her neck to her shoulder, and couldn't help letting out a tiny sound.

He was rumbling deep in his chest, vibrating against her back, making the breath catch in her throat.

She felt like they were swimming in the music, held up and buoyed by it, and it was pulling them along like a current. His breath was so hot against her neck, it made her shiver with pleasure. Hands moved down her hips and cupped her ass for a moment, before sliding down to feel her thighs. She felt no shock or fear, just like her whole body was heavy and damp with wanting him. She wondered who he was. She wanted desperately to see his face, to see who it was that was making her body feel so damn good. She started to turn her head to look at him, when she was stopped by his hand running up into her hair, holding her head in place, grabbing her roughly but massaging her scalp with his talented fingers at the same time, so she didn't even have time to imagine protesting.

If she had been thinking clearly, she would have realized that this was completely unlike her. She would have also felt a familiarity in the body behind her, one that would have made her weak with fear, but she was in no position to notice. She recognized dimly in the back of her mind that later she might have to explain her actions to Taylor, and definately to herself too. But right then, all she could do was get lost in the sensations he was giving her, and lose her mind with longing.

Suddenly, she felt him withdraw, and realized with an aching loss that he was no longer touching her. She spun around to look for him, but she didn't know what to look for, and all she saw was strangers dancing in the darkness of the club.

please read and review guys!! they keep me writing!! thanks for all the support.

-e


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimor: I own nothing

Disclaimor: I own nothing.

a/n: the font may have changed in this chap. I usually write it on my mac, but I'm at my boyfriend's house, (so I'm also having trouble finding time to update) but he has a PC, and I'm not comfortable with the word-processor. If there are weird things happening with the font and style, it's not me. 

Jackson walked out of the club, cursing himself. Why had he done that? It was stupid. He could have given himself away, and compromised his entire mission. What he had done had risked angering his employer. He had never done anything so risky before. It just wasn't who he was. He was a good manager, all of his employers liked him, and his clients respected him. What had come over him?

He passed right by his car and walked furiously towards the beach.

He knew what it was. It was the same thing that had come over him when he had allowed himself to fail in the Keefe job over a year ago. This girl just made him want to fuck up. As soon as he'd seen her at the Matchstick, the smart, professional thing to do would have been to leave immediately, and then request to be taken off the case. Because now that he knew she was here in Hawaii, he would be too distracted to finish the job. He would want to see her again.

Because the truth was, she fascinated him. He prided himself on being able to read people and discover their weaknesses, and know how to use their weaknesses against them. People were no mystery to him. But she was. She had been ever since he had first seen her, in a photograph slipped to him in a manila folder while he was on the plane to Miami. It was a quick photo snapped of her while she was walking to her car, one hand inside the purse slung over her shoulder and the other placed absently on her collarbone. The look on her face was tense and unhappy, but it was her eyes that had captured him. At the moment that the picture had been taken, she had tossed a glance over her shoulder, her eyes meeting the camera lens, unseeing but haunted. In her eyes he could see that there was a ghost haunting her, and that she battled it each and every day.

She was like him. He had ghosts too, and he knew from experience that fighting them could be the scariest thing you ever did. Most people wouldn't be able to deduce all of that just from a photograph, but he was a highly trained professional. In college, he had taken several psychology classes, and they had overall been his favorite courses, because he had been able to put them to practical use immediately, whenever he stepped out of his room, whenever he went to Starbucks, every time he met someone knew. Not only was he a natural at getting inside people's heads, but he knew instinctively how to make people feel however he wanted them to.

The stopped walking finally, finding a secluded spot on the beach, and squatted down, weight on the balls of his feet and head in his hands.

The bottom line was, he had thought that he understood her. When he looked at her, he had seen what looked like a frightened, beaten woman who had been struggling with a past, and was exhausted by it. She looked like she couldn't fight anymore, and that made his job all the easier. She was the perfect person for intimidation.

But unlike anyone he'd ever met before, she had surprised him. More than that, she had shocked him. Not with the distracting recount of her rape. He had expected that it had been something like that. But her reaction to it was something he had never seen before. Instead of letting it destroy her, she had let it harden within her, her pain and fear had been pressed and solidified within her by the fire of her outrage and strength of heart into a sharp diamond of contempt and fierce courage. The contempt had been for him. The courage was for the world, and he was proud of her.

Most of this revelation had happened for him while he was lying on her living room floor after being shot. It had passed within seconds, but felt like years had gone by while he stared at her, and his brilliant mind finally picked up on the stores of strength that had been hiding in her. How had he missed them during his long weeks of surveillance?

And seeing her at the club had brought it all back to him. She had looked whole, healthy, and strong. And when she danced, her eyes had glowed with a wild life that had been repressed for years. That was why all the men had stared, he knew. Not because of her beautiful body, or the way she had moved, although those things never hurt. People had stared because she looked like an animal, a jungle animal, that had recently been set free from it's cage.

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Lisa hugged Taylor goodbye, and stood outside her own apartment, hugging her arms, trying to quiet her body. Her skin was still humming from the contact with the man. She could smell him on her, the sharpness of his aftershave, and soft scent of his skin. It was in her hair. The smell was maddeningly familiar, and the feeling it gave her, (if you notice, all smells give you a feeling, or a hint of a feeling) she wasn't sure what it was, but it disturbed her. It made her feel, on a fundamental level, like she was in danger.

She shook the thoughts, and decided to go for a walk. She directed her feet to the beach. For some reason, her thoughts led her to him. it happened at random times, and she wasn't really that surprised that he was on her mind tonight. Most nights he snuck into her dreams like a bandit, filling up her mind with his face and his strong arms and hands. In her dreams, his hands did things that they had never done in the short time she had known him. Naughty things. Things that Taylor would have been shocked that Lisa even knew about.

She walked out to the edge of the waves and stood there, staring out at the ocean. She felt water break over her shoes, and, cursing quietly, quickly removed her shoes and held them aloft. She gazed up at the stars, and noticed, absently, that they were spinning slightly, and then realized that she was drunk. She laughed, and started to spin herself, faster and faster, until she felt a wave break over her hips and realized that she had gone out too close to the edge. She fell to her hip and felt cold water wash over her, wetting her thoroughly.

This should have been enough to startle her into sobriety, but she was a lightweight, and she stumbled her way back to the shore. Just the movement of her eyes made her dizzy. She didn't feel sick, luckily, just very, very drunk. Her thoughts returned to Jackson. She wished she were still at the club, dancing her mind away, with strangers. It was better than being here, alone with her thoughts. She had not yet made peace with the fact that he was in her blood, and probably always would be.

She knelt, facing the ocean, her wet shirt clinging to her dripping skin, her hair falling forward like a curtain.

Less that twenty feet away, Jackson Rippner crouched, head still in his hands. He had been unable to hear her, simply because his mind was too full of her to hear anything. If either of them had bothered to look in the right direction, this night could have had a drastically different ending, but as it was, Lisa soon turned and tripped her way back to her house, and presently Jackson made his own way home. But for the second time that night, they had been critically near to each other, and this time, both were unaware.

a/n: sorry, there wasn't a whole lot of action in this chapter, but I love getting lost in their minds. More action coming up, I promise! Please review, I love them!

-E


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